The red flows down across my wrist,
painting a doodle,
that's too messed up for anyone to see,
a picture that's full of all my lost glee.
The red flows down across my thigh,
painting a version of my last high,
that's too messed up for anyone to see,
a picture that's full of all my lost glee.
The glistening ruby paintings that litter my life,
now do reflect my life's greatest strifes.
My sight is going - I cannot see,
as a tourniquet steals my beautiful scarlet from me...
YOU ARE READING
My Maze of a Mind
PoetryThese are some of my poems that illustrate how I feel sometimes, some will be happy - others not, so sorry if they depress you. WARNING: these poems may be triggering to some, in particular: The Treachery of the Knives, Beautiful Scarlet and The N...
